


bone and skin

by manbunjon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 09:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13544931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manbunjon/pseuds/manbunjon
Summary: written forjonsa kink week// day one: public beddingThe beaded curtain that separated them from the people of court was thin enough to allow a warm breeze to drift in through the open balcony doors. The silk netting showed the ghostly outline of their faces like a set of haunting statuettes but the details of their features were hidden, gladly leaving Sansa unable to discern one Lord from another. But she could feel their presence nonetheless.





	bone and skin

The beaded curtain that separated them from the people of court was thin enough to allow a warm breeze to drift in through the open balcony doors. The silk netting showed the ghostly outline of their faces like a set of haunting statuettes but the details of their features were hidden, gladly leaving Sansa unable to discern one Lord from another. But she could feel their presence nonetheless.

At first the sight of the thin fabric of the curtains had left her cheeks burning and her stomach tightened into a fist. They had promised she would retain her dignity- even through all of this. She had pictured a curtain of thick wool or a lambskin separating them but in truth the sheet was barely thicker than a paper-dressing screen from Yi Ti.

Jon had been furious at the notion that a traditional bedding ceremony was to take place. He had already shown his great dissent over the fact that his bride was to be stripped naked by a hoard of drunken partygoers and carried to her chamber as they shouted ribald jests at her.

Sansa had already been twice wed and neither time bed. In truth she did not blame the Lords of the Small Council for their skepticism, questioning the legitimacy of the marriage that was to take place between the King of Westeros and a woman he had once called sister. She understood why it must be done. _For the good of the people,_ as her father would say. _For the good of Westeros._

Jon had assured her that they need not go through with it. That the wedding could go on as any other royal wedding once had, with the couple left alone together to spend their first night as man and wife. But she knew her duty.

Her mother had told her once what was to happen on the night that she would marry the Prince. However, Lady Catelyn had forgotten to mention the fact that as they lay together, a crowd of ten Lords would also be present.

She feared what was to happen during the bedding, so panicked for the weeks leading up to the ceremony that she had barely eaten or slept. Even Jon seemed uneasy at the thought, fidgeting and restless.

But as the King and Queen were pushed into their chamber, naked as newly born babes, with their heads buzzing from ale and fingers twitching with ache, all the hesitation and apprehension that had built so completely within seemed to wither and disappear.

The kiss planted on her lips was nascently hesitant; his mouth warm but tight-lipped against hers, his hand chastely pressed to her bare shoulder. His fingers were tough and callused, rising to curl lazily through her auburn hair before following the curve of her neck and grazing along the line of her collarbones. Gooseflesh prickled her skin, her head falling to the side to urge him to deepen the kiss.

It was as though she had grown drunk on wine and reverie and touch alone. She cared little for the Lords on the other side of the curtain. She cared little for their wandering eyes and the barely masked words they uttered. She cared only for Jon.

He tasted of sweets and bitters combined, his tongue moving across her mouth hypnotically. She had shifted onto her back to better accommodate their grasping bodies, her mouth loathe to leave his even for a moment. Like a drunk without coin for ale Sansa craved his touch, her fingers grasping him by the shoulders and pulling him to her.

Her long legs bracketed his hips, leaving him flush against her body. The true extent of their nakedness was at once apparent and as he lay against her body the sensation of her hot flesh pressed to his left him breathless. At that moment there could have been a thousand men crowded into the chamber or none at all for all he paid them care. It was only Sansa he tended to, only her attentions he sought.

His body was all muscle and hard plains as it pressed to her, his callused hands curved against the bone of her hip so that he could guide her movements. Her heart beat so rapidly against her ribcage that he could feel it against his chest, a smile playing at his lips as he touched her, his fingers lowering to press firm against the thatch of red curls at the heart of her thighs.

He felt wetness there, as he had so many times, though he knew this night would end as it never had before, with himself fully spent and sated, laid dormant between her thighs. For many a month Jon had ached to touch her so entirely, to claim every inch of her, mind and body. And if doing so before an audience was the only way, so be it.

The fit of himself within her body made him gasp. Another whisper filtered through the curtain, neither needed nor noticed. With a whisper of steady encouragement he led her hips forward, his hand following the curve of her lower back to help guide her.

He knew the sounds of true pleasure as she uttered them, an excited whisper filling the room from the Lords beside them; giddy like green boys. Jon hated them. But he loved Sansa, loved the way her body felt against his, how she knew just where to kiss him to make him see stars before his eyes.

And she was his. She would be Queen beside him. _From this day until the end of my days_ , just as he had recited to the High Septon in the Great Sept.

“This is absurd.” Jon had said. They had curled together upon the cushioned seat beside the window in Jon’s study.

“It’s just a show, my love.” she replied, stroking his hair tenderly as she cradled his head in her lap. “One last show for them and it’ll all be done.”

“I’d rather stand beside you in the Godswood. Take you to wife before the Heart Tree. Before the eyes of the Gods that have watched over us for so many years.”

And so it was. With naught but Ghost to keep their company they were wed before the crimson eyes of the Heart Tree, three days before the Septon was to pronounce them husband and wife in the Great Sept of Baelor. It was a simple and undecorated ceremony, just as it had been for the unions of Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark and Lady Lyanna and Lord Rhaegar, so many years before.

Though it was all too different now. They lay, rutting and moaning and shifting, before an audience of their Small Council, as no one had done since the days of the First Men. In another life they might have moved quick and clinically and felt nothing but shame. But after losing so much…Surely Sansa could allow herself a moment of pleasure.

Her breath hitched as she touched something within her that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. He pressed a kiss to her collarbone, smiling as he felt her body shiver in response; his face pressed to the cavity between her breasts.

“Jon.” she moaned softly against the shell of his ear, her hot breath making pinpricks of gooseflesh run down his neck.

His eyes were dark and hooded as he looked upon her, the way her hips pressed to his making him shiver. Sansa let out a soft moan as her back lifted off the feather mattress, arching against his body in a movement of delicious torment. His movements were slow and deliberate, the way her body rose to meet his making his head feel light.

She smelled of lavender, the thin sheen of sweat that glittered against her skin mingling with his as they moved together. Warmth pooled in her belly, the arm Jon used to hold himself up trembling.

He could feel the redolent heat of his release approaching. He knew he could not last much longer; the way her leg had draped over his hip doing little to stave off his pleasure. In truth he was surprised to find he had lasted so long as this, with his woman laid across his furs, panting and breathless and lying unashamedly naked beneath his body.

Sansa gasped sharply and Jon knew that she too was nearing her own release. He lowered his hand, dragging the pads of his fingers across the base of her, feeling the bud of skin that he had once touched with his tongue.

Sansa trembled with the force of the pleasure that coursed through her body and she groaned against the shell of his ear like a growl, reminding Jon that she truly was a she-wolf of Winterfell. Rolling her hips upward just once more Jon was filled so completely with pleasure that for a moment he could not see, his senses filled only by her sweet voice, by the feel of her skin, by the way she wriggled beneath him and dragged her lips across the slopes of his cheeks. In that moment they might as well have been in a world all their own, without the eyes of the Small Council documenting their every movement.

Jon, collapsing onto his back in pure, sated exhaustion, and pulled the furs over his bride. He flicked his hand toward the Lord and with the confirmation of consummation finally complete, they were left alone. If their presence was still a bother to Sansa she did not show it, so wrought with weariness that she merely turning to curl against his side as the Lords filed from the room with shuffling feet and muted whispers.

Jon felt her nuzzle deeper into the furs so that her face was half hidden. He brushed a strand of crimson hair from her brow and smiled as he watched her sink into sleep, feeling himself blink back fatigue.

“Sleep now, my love.” Sansa whispered, lying her head upon his chest softly.

“Aye, m’lady.” He promised and he sank into a peaceful sleep with naught but his woman to watch over him that night.


End file.
